


Always Comrades

by shores



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, young!Angela, young!ana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-15 19:30:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17534837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shores/pseuds/shores
Summary: This is set during the first few years since OW was formed.





	Always Comrades

**Author's Note:**

> This is set during the first few years since OW was formed.

 

Captain Ana Amari does not say _'We shouldn't be doing this'_ when Angela gasps and holds her wrist tightly, signaling for her to stop her thrusts.

"Wait, I... I was about to come," she says, eyes closed — her sweat trickles down her skin and dampens the remaining items of her clothes.

Ana complies, of course, and makes to pull her hand out, but Angela prevents that.

 

They're in the lockers room, any agent could come in any second now, they're injured and tired, and most importantly, they should _not_ be doing this.

Yet Angela doesn't point that out, and neither does Ana.

Ana is pressed against Angela — quietly panting, sweaty and barely composed, two fingers buried deep inside Angela's dripping pussy.

Against her back, Ana's locker feels cold and harsh, especially considering that she's merely in her thin tank top and panties.

_Right, Ana hadn't even pulled her panties down, she just pushed them to the side before she easily plunged in her skillful fingers._

Angela recalls that while trying to calm her heart. Through the thick haze in her mind, she recalls how she'd come to check on her captain and ended up hugging her and absently kissing her neck.

"What do you want then, Angela?" Ana asks and she almost sounds foreign to Angela. _Almost_. Her breath is a familiar shudder on Angela's cheek, the undercurrent of lust is unmistakable by the young doctor, and her lips are tame and needy all at once.

And her hurt, it's on full display. Her loss, their loss that blurred the lines of their relationship until a post-briefing small talk, meant entirely for comfort and mending unseen wounds, turned into bruising kisses and desperate touches.

In a way, however, all of this Ana feels so recognizable. It feels like hours ago when they were in the field; Ana commanding their comrades ever so naturally; her voice never faltering as she delivered her orders, she offered no jokes to lighten their pre-battle fears. She's remained firm and fiery and skilled right till the end, right until their almost miserable failure.

She has looked only determined and confident to those glancing at her fleetingly.

But Angela isn't glancing right now, she is looking properly, sort of. Her eyelids feel heavy, but she's looking and she's seeing that Ana's eyes are darkened with more than just lust. And she's feeling; she's feeling Ana's pounding heart, Ana's own hurt clouding her mind enough to the point where she's seeking something in her in the middle of the lockers room.

She's seeking something in her; a person working under her command, a person much, much younger her.

  
It's overwhelming, seeing Ana reveal her aches and sorrows in front of her, the youngest doctor in Overwatch — asking for aid, for this kind of aid, and not answer eagerly.

Angela succeeds in denying herself that release she needs, and instead makes sure Captain Amari is treated properly.

"I still want this."

It comes out shakily, the way Ana peers down at her is weakening, fulfilling in a way that Angela has not foreseen coming.

She hesitantly unbuckles Ana's belt, capturing her lips in another heated kiss, then drops to her knees.

Angela feels a strange satisfaction upon seeing the glistening sight before her, it causes her walls to clench in need and her stomach to be filled with endless, coiling warmth.

Angela swallows thickly, looking up. Ana's chest is heaving, and the need is sheer in her eyes; powerful.

It is new, but drowning in her captain's fire, this kind of fire, is the only thing Angela wants right now. Not one ounce of worry bubbles in her head.

(She vaguely realizes it's the urge to comfort her captain, to help her in this private way, that's shielding her from the worry that otherwise would have stormed her irreversibly because they definitely should not be doing this.)

Captain Amari growls at the first lap from Angela's tongue, hips turning stiff for a moment.

Angela cranes her neck, wanting to lick properly at her Captain's cunt. She holds Ana's hips for leverage, and sighs through her nose when Ana reaches for a strong grip on her head. Fingers threading through her ruffled hair.

  
Soon enough, Ana finds a good angle and rocks her hips against Angela's face unabashedly, using her grip to guide her movement,

Angela digs her fingers in Ana's buttocks, the taste is strong and sharp and it pushes down the sorrows that the battle, the loss, had offered all of their team.

Angela opens her mouth so eagerly, sucking at Ana's folds and kissing deeply before she pays attention to The Captain's clit. Doing that turns the grasp on her hair rougher, and fills the silence with muffled groans and an obscene, wet sound that makes Angel desperate for any kind of friction.

  
Her bare knees ache, but like a good soldier, she wants to finish her mission first.

"Tongue," Captain Amari orders, and takes the lead once the doctor complies. Angela let it out as far as she can, flat and wet, and Ana rubs herself on it in a way so demanding and unforgiving that at Angela's sure her jaw is going to be sore later.

She doesn't care, however, not when Ana comes with a strangled cry, one that — like everything Ana does and say — showcase her strength and right to be their captain.

  
The sides of Angela's head pulse, and her tongue and mouth hurts a little, but the flood trailing paths down her chin, the taste lingering in her mouth and nostrils prompt her hips to twitch.

Angela's breaths are close to pants when Ana lets go of her, and for the first time ever she doesn't know what to do with her hands now that the feel of Ana's flesh had imprinted on them, but she does her best to maintain some sort of willpower as Ana bends to lift her trousers and tidies her clothes back in place — strands of black hair stick to the side of her face, and sweat shimmers deliciously on her skin.

Angela gets on her feet shakily, very obviously trembling that Ana has to catch her before she even straightens, and lifts her easily before heading for the bench.

Angela gasps, but naturally wraps her legs around the older woman's hips, and hugs her.

"Now do you want to come, hm?" Ana asks, voice hoarse, and strokes Angela's bottom.

Angela's panties are fully ruined now, her pussy leaking embarrassingly a lot that Ana surely will feel dampness soon.

Angela hides her face in Ana's neck. "Yes."

Ana confidently holds Angela steady, letting her rest all of her weight on her. And the moment she does, the moment she feels the sweet pressure on her pussy, her hips jerk, searching for more friction.

Ana notices her returning desperation, she presses her hand on her butt and encourages her.

  
Angela whimpers, and thinks of _not_ grinding on her captain like this, but she's already too far gone in the sensation. She moves, clinging to Ana for support.

"There you go, there you go, habibti," she whispers as Angela moves uncontrollably, biting her lip. "Just like that."

And it's hard not to melt right there and then; in Ana's arms, in her warmth, in the way she helps her get a firm grind that makes wetness coat Ana's crotch.

_In her her familiar tenderness, only apparent when her comrades need it most._

  
Angela rocks her hips as fast and hard as possible that the wood squeaks under them. It drives her mad, her mewls spill endlessly from her gaping mouth as her climax approaches.

Ana holds her securely, her strength assures Angela that she can have it like this; humping her captain wantonly like this in order to get off.

And so Angela does so freely.

Her thrusts become frantic - something in the pit of her stomach, something hot and heavy, snaps.

Angela groan loudly, she's no longer moving her hips, at least not by herself as strong hands on her butt make sure she rides the huge wave to its fullest.

 

 

 

They don't talk about it the next day, or the days after, they don't talk about it at all, and Angela knows that she's guessed it right. _When Ana let her take her time to compose herself and stands, and then when she calmly and gently, her usual tone, told her to get some sleep before their meeting in a few hours, she's telling her that that's the only way it should be._

 

But there is a something more.

Ana lingers, just enough for Angela to notice her gentle hand on her waist as they part ways after a meeting or practice, or when they pass by each other in the common lounge after work hours. Ana lingers, and her smiles, her eyes, they bear something even more nicer than usual in them.

There has always been something nice in them, kindness and love for their comrades, but Angela feels like this subtle  _more_ is for her and she treasures it wholeheartedly because she got to help their strong captain, Ana Amari, in a way no one else has.

 


End file.
